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Gnorks: A Traveler's Tale
thumb|300px|right|The first docid tones Besero heard escape from the musical genius brewing in the heart of Muldane. Chapter 1: The Road to Jonathandria Besero paused for a moment in the marketplace. The delicious, almost entrancing scent of freshly baked bread wafted across the square. All the familiar sounds of his home danced in Besero's ears, and in his heart. The booming voices of merchants echoed above the din, as farmers bartered good-naturedly with local villagers, and children skipped in and out of the crowds with trinkets and sweets in tow. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the marketplace filled Besero with melancholy. The town square melted away before Besero, and a serene forest replaced it. The placid braches of the wood danced subtly in the breeze, beckoning Besero to come forward. Besero wanted nothing more to enter the gilded forest, its limbs bathed in the quiet light of the evening sun. Yet still, he wished to remain in the bustling little town. The dreamlike image of the forest drifted away, and again the sounds and smells of Gaffa greeted Besero. “Besero, there you are!” It was Agafiya, “your father’s looking for you. You’d better go see what he wants.” Besero had always taken a liking to Agafiya, but right now he completely despised her. She had just delivered the worst news he could have expected to hear. Earlier that day, Besero was attempting to teach a squirrel to bob for apples when his father had called him inside. "Son, you're twenty now, a man by hobbit standards, yet you carry yourself as a child. Why do you suppose that is?" Besero hated his father's cold logic and simple speech sometimes, but it was often refreshing when compared to the rough drawl of some other hobbits in the village. He continued without waiting for Besero's reply, "Son, your mother wasn't killed in a tragic weasel related accident, she's alive." "What!" Besero cried in bewilderment, standing from the red vinyl chair and drawing himself to his full height, towering two feet above his father. "Don't you see Besero," his father proceeded with that same logical tone that Besero could never implement himself, "You're taller than all the hobbits here in Gaffa. Do you know why?" again the question hung unanswered just long enough to bring tears to Besero's clear blue eyes. "Your mother, Besero, is a Nyriad." Besero tore from the small cottage, and dashed into the marketplace, where Agafiya had found him, "Besero!" Agafiya placed a soft hand on his shoulder, the warmth radiating into his being, and bringing him back to reality. Besero gave Agafiya one final apolegetic look, then bolted away from the square, plunging himself into the crowd, then back out as he neared the countryside. On the edge of the forest outside of Gaffa, Besero paused. He heaved a sigh of relief that Agafiya had not followed him, but detected a twinge of regret as he took a final longing glance at the town. At length, Besero heaved the burlap sack back onto his shoulder and stalked off along the edge of the Gaffa wood. He knew not where to find the Nyriads, but he knew where he could find out, the human Capital of Jonathandria. Besero's calloused feet dragged along the green turf as he trekked across the field. The sun beamed gloriously, seemingly balanced on the horizon as Besero's spirit slowly rose. His silent optimism subtly grew as his adventure unfolded. A breeze picked up carrying with it a foul odor. The stench grew intense as Besero continued, he placed a hand over his nose and noticed a form coming up on the trail. As Besero proceeded, the rancid stench became all the more potent, and the form became more clear. There, before Besero, was a Gnome wielding the strangest guitar he had ever seen. As Besero came close enough to address the Gnome, a tremendous wave of sound erupted from the guitar. It struck Besero with an unbelievable force. He fell to the ground and lost contact with reality, again, the golden wood surrounded him, and The Stairway To Heaven played subtly in the background.